


The Name of the Game is Apathy

by violet_daydreams



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Child Neglect, Depression, M/M, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Ideation, goro imagines shido's death, the shippy stuff is vague and secondary to goro's self loathing, there's also a brief portion where it's implied goro's on suicide watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_daydreams/pseuds/violet_daydreams
Summary: If there’s an emotion that Goro Akechi wears best, it’s apathy. Apathy is a security blanket, one that bests suits he who has never once known security.





	The Name of the Game is Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a very rough night, so I'm taking it out on Goro, lmao.

If there’s an emotion that Goro Akechi wears best, it’s apathy. Apathy is a security blanket, one that bests suits he who has never once known security. He who can never find security. He who throws away his chance at security time and time again. Because even when he has it, it feels wrong. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve anything good. His existence is a curse. A curse that killed his mother. A curse that killed his determination, his will to live.

When Shido dies, so does Goro Akechi.

Killing Shido at the apex of his power is the only thing Goro thinks he can define as a purpose. Really, it's his only reason to live. Once he’s gone, Goro can end himself in peace, he thinks. Or, maybe knows is the better word. Because there are so many fantasies, so may pleasing images of his own death that flood him to the core with relief. That make him think things will be okay when he's gone from the world at long last, until he drowns his thoughts in music because he can't have it yet.  It becomes so normal, that he doesn’t question his thoughts. If they’re right or wrong. If they matter. Because nothing matters. Feelings don’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Though, those cold lone mornings when he sits at his desk, midnight hour a distant memory, he wipes tears from his eyes. Some unbroken part of him knows his life shouldn't have turned out like this. That if his mother just held out until he was a little older-- or if she pretended she didn't  _hate_ him, things wouldn't be like this.

But these things don't really change.

Or do they? Because e hen Akira Kurusu steps into his life, he senses change for the first time in years. A slight invigoration to his dull life of hopping mask to mask, desperately struggling to maintain his stable yet hollow shell. No one is meant to know who he truly is, not even Akira, but somehow he senses a bond. It’s hard not to crumble under the stress, apathetic or not, but the idea of talking to Kurusu adds a surprising amount of support to his structure.

They talk. 

A lot. 

At the cafe, mostly, because he knows it’s the only place Akira can’t run from him. Not that he’s ran before, but no one wants some pathetically lonely freak vying for their attention constantly (helplessly, desperately, longingly; he’s a disgusting needy bastard). But Akira coaxes him out of his shell. They meet at a bakery, sometimes, when Goro isn’t running around like a headless chicken. They talk and they laugh. Goro overshares, but Akira doesn’t seem to mind and it’s good. Except for a split second when it isn’t and Goro hates him and wants him to fuck off. Stupid disgusting attic trash shouldn’t feel pity for  _ him _ . He doesn’t want it. But the thoughts leave when Akira smiles and offers to buy him something else to satisfy his sweet tooth. 

It almost feels like a date.

But it can’t be.

Goro isn’t capable of being loved.

Why else has no one ever wanted him around?

But he likes to pretend it could be a date. And that they could be normal. Because it would be nice to be normal with Akira. 

So he dreams about it until he can't anymore. 

Because other people really aren’t good for Goro, they have a habit of dying on him whether by his hand or someone elses. And Shido is quite adamant about this particular boy dying. Shido’s orders, unfortunately, are absolute. Akira can’t interfere, can’t take down Shido’s palace like he wants to. So, it's fine, Goro supposes, because if he doesn't kill Akira everything is ruined and he can’t die peacefully. All of the blood on his hands… all of the families he ruined… they’d all be for nothing. And he really can’t have guilt weighing him down if Akira lives and takes Shido down. Not when he's been so close he can taste it. 

So, he paints that pretty smile on his dull empty broken husk, efficiently blackmailing his way into the Phantom Thieves.

He doesn’t really want Akira dead, but if his father wishes for it, so be it. The thoughts of killing him plague his mind, no matter how often he tries to shove them into a dark corner. Akira's death is the first he's actually felt such strong guilt for and he isn't even dead yet. But Goro  doesn’t have a choice, he’s tried to fight it, but he doesn’t have a say. 

It’s fine though. Soon he’ll get to watch Shido die. Get to watch as he screams in agony, blackened inky blood pouring from his eyes and nose and mouth, scratching the table as he cries for it to stop. Goro smiles for just a moment at the thought, before he falters. Not yet. There are other heads to bring Shido. His work is rarely ever done.

The act of killing Kurusu is something that makes his stomach knot up and a heat run through his core, he smiles for a moment. There’s something intimate about their situation. Something special. Maybe because, for just a moment, Akira got to see the disgusting vile creature lying behind the surface. An apathetic monster. A robotic killer. A broken man, clinging for safety. Maybe because it's the first _real_ murder he's committed. Killing a shadow is so much more impersonal than gunning someone down in person. 

Still... He murmurs an apology, kissing the corpse on the top of it’s head before he leaves. 

He could have loved Akira, maybe. Well, no. His heart is nothing but ice, he isn’t capable of love. How can something, some vile monster, that has never known love possibly know what it feels like? Loving Akira would have been an impossible task. But he wishes he had the chance.

Days pass and the guilt never goes away.

So, it's no surprise that he  feels relief knowing that Akira is alive. 

Even if it just means he has to fight him. 

Even if Akira wants to ruin two years of work. 

Ruin his only purpose. 

Though, it does sting to lose to him. And it stings to watch them deal with his cognitive self while he’s nothing but a crumpled defenseless mess.  But he supposes it’s better than seeing Akira die again.  Even if it’s necessary, he doesn’t want to see it.  The Phantom Thieves carry him out of the palace, despite his desire and pleas to die there.  They drag him to the final fight too, not that he does much but sulk. His entire life, his only purpose, gone so quickly. It feels like the blink of an eye. When they leave the palace, Goro crumples up on the ground, wordless. Akira has to carry him home.

Well, not home.

He never returns to his apartment.

Instead, he stays at LeBlanc with Akira for a while, they share a bed and Goro clings to him at night. Because Akira seems to be his only source of stability. And it kills him. No kisses, no touches can revive Goro from drowning in a sea of numbness. His one chance, gone. This isn’t a world he wants to live in. It was never a world he wanted to live in.  Yet, Akira forces him to keep living. Won’t leave him alone long enough to make a dent. Stole away his gun. Monitors him near sharp objects, won’t leave him alone when he can make do with sheets.

Goro thinks it’s even more annoying when Akira drags him on some goose chase looking for a therapist. And when Goro scoffs and remarks a priest would be better, drags him to confession. It helps, a little. Though, the priest doesn’t take him seriously when he confesses to being an assassin.  Well, not anymore, he guesses. The metaverse is gone.

Just like his hopes and dreams.

Akira says they can be replaced with ease. Because he’s so sure Goro must have wanted  _ something _ before his life was ruined. But it’s hard to say because everything before he became a murderer at 14 blurs together. 

He’s not sure why Akira wants to help him.

Maybe it’s love.

Maybe it’s not.

Either way, Goro doesn’t deserve it.


End file.
